Ghosts of the Past
by Abby's Grrl
Summary: When the team investigate the death of a young girl, things start to get a little bit too hinky for Abby...
1. Chapter 1

Gibbs dragged a hand over his face. The thin morning light created a haze above the damp ground, but not enough to obscure the girl laid on her back in front of him. McGee was knelt besides her, scrutinizing her now that the camera had documented what it could. DiNozzo was stalking around the perimeter.

"Talk to me," Gibbs said in a hushed voice. For some reason this case grated on him already, got under his skin like a chigger and made him feel itchy and raw in a way that he couldn't explain.  
"Looks like a point blank .38 to the sternum, I'm guessing when we turn her over it's going to be a through and through. I'm not sure..."  
"Not sure? About what?"  
McGee looked up at him and Gibbs saw confusion in his boyish face. "I'm not sure how this all fits. The way she fell says suicide, but a chest shot... that's unusual. You've got a higher risk of just bleeding out if you miss the heart. And then there's the fact that the firearm is missing."

"Shot through the heart?" DiNozzo looked over and gave a slight chuckle. "But who's to bla..."  
He tailed off as he caught Gibbs's expression. His boss was looking at him coldly.  
"Um, no sign of anything here. She flattened the grass coming out this way, but she didn't drop or throw anything. Think somebody got to her before we did?"  
Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose. "Looks like it," he said, "if there wasn't somebody with her in the first place. McGee, let's take a look at her back."

Gibbs thought he could understand why she, or they, chose this spot. Secluded, picturesque, just the right place to choose if you wanted to see some natural beauty before you ended your life. Or had it ended for you. The thought unsettled him. What if she came out here with someone she trusted? Had someone cared enough to make sure that her last moments were ones of scenic pleasure?  
He made a mental note to pursue that line of thought once they confirmed her ID. McGee had been right about the bullet. Straight through her back, exiting in a bloodied starburst of flesh just left of her spine. DiNozzo started to scour the inner perimeter, focusing on an area based on the rough trajectory path.  
A grunt made Gibbs look over. DiNozzo was squatting, drawing out an evidence bag and peering intently at something on the ground.  
"You got it?" Gibbs asked, knowing already that the sudden intensity in DiNozzo's face meant he had found the bullet in record time.  
"Yeah, it's right here. Wanna take a shot of this, Probie?"  
McGee moved over, leaving Gibbs alone next to the girl's body. She was young, probably just out of junior grade, with a thick mass of brunette hair and a pleasing face that had been developing towards pretty. Suddenly he understood the itchy irritation within him, the frustration and anger at the wasted life. Usually it was easy for him to view cases objectively, to focus on the resolution and justice for the dead. But this girl was practically a child. He stood up quickly.  
"You two, document everything. DiNozzo, get that bullet bagged and back in the lab as soon as you've recorded everything. Ducky is on his way over here. Don't let me down."

McGee cleared his throat, startling Gibbs back into consciousness. Before he could say anything McGee handed him a print-out. "We've got an ID, boss. Hope Rezlow, 17, reported missing yesterday by her grandparents. Dad's stationed overseas, Mom died of cancer three years ago."  
"They didn't happen to mention whether they had any firearms go missing?" Gibbs joked grimly. Catching some precious sleep in his chair, his dreams had been haunted by images of Shannon and Kelly, and he wished he could get away somewhere, anywhere, where he could rinse the thoughts away.  
"If they did, it wasn't recorded. She's down with Ducky now. Are you OK boss?"  
Gibbs took the sheet of paper from his concerned colleague. "Fine. Go down to autopsy, I'll talk to the grandparents."

After the numbness would come anger, Gibbs knew that from bitter experience. He took a breath and knocked on the Reznor's door.

"Timothy, what do you see here? I do apologise, my dear, but this is necessary for our comprehension of your current state." Ducky gestured at the dead girl's arm under the spotlight. McGee peered over his shoulder. Gerald had been called away indefinitely by a family emergency, and Ducky seemed enthusiastic about sharing his observations.  
"Scratches?"  
Ducky nodded. "Yes, pre-mortem, you can see where the blood began to clot. This occurred very shortly before the poor girl met her demise. Now," he said as he moved round the gurney, "I found traces of what very well may be skin matter beneath her fingernails. I've given them to Abby for analysis, but I am rather suspecting that we will find her attacker got away lightly."  
McGee glanced at him. "What make you think she didn't shoot herself?" he asked, genuinely curious.  
"Ah, now, there, as I believe they say, is the rub. Look here," Ducky pointed at the entry wound. "You see that the bullet entered at a slight angle, just slight enough to give us our exit wound instead of an internal ricochet. This implies that were she indeed to have taken her own life, she would have used her right hand in a dreadfully awkward fashion."  
"It's possible," McGee said and shrugged. "Maybe she didn't want to risk a failed head shot."  
"All too sadly plausible, given the preoccupation of todays youth with their appearance. Not that I am implying anything about you, Hope," he added, turning slightly towards the corpse. "But the abrasions and fingernail samples point to something of a struggle, perhaps a lovers tryst gone awry. Whatever the circumstances, I can't give a full verdict on this until I hear back from Abby. Until then, I am inclined to say that this sad affair is the work of someone other than our poor Hope here."

Abby span in her chair, watching with interest as the profile began to take shape. The Brain Matter CD came to an end, and she rolled across the floor to hit repeat, turning the volume up as she did so.  
"You'll get us hit with a noise abatement order one day," said Gibbs from behind her. Abby craned her head backwards. "Gotta have something to keep me awake here, after I was running tests nearly all night..." She yawned, stretching her arms out and cracking one eye open slightly to peep at him.  
Gibbs smiled in spite of himself. Trust Abby to pull him out of a sour mood. He handed over the one thing that she craved.  
"Yeah! That's why I tell everyone I have the best boss," she said, grasping the oversize cup of Caf-Pow eagerly. She beamed up at him as she took a sip, and he couldn't help smiling back.  
"Ahh, now that is better," she said, unfurling herself from the chair and moving over to her desk. The computer screen was filled with data that Gibbs had given up on hoping to read like she could.  
"Hmm, that's odd," she said, removing a hand from her precious Caf-Pow to point at the screen. "Uh-oh. Gibbs, I don't think you're going to like this..."  
He moved to her side and frowned at the pixels under her finger. "Like what, Abs?"  
"This sample from under her fingernails? It's her DNA, I mean, Hope's. She must have scratched herself."  
Gibbs lack of response made her look around. His face was carefully blank, and she knew in that moment that he was more invested in the case than was good for him.  
"Not what you wanted to hear, huh?" she said softly. He remained silent for a few more seconds before shaking his head.  
"Can't be the good guy all the time, Abs. I'll tell Ducky. Now we have to find out what happened to the gun and whoever took it from the scene. And Abs?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Thanks for putting so much time in for this."

After he had left the lab Abby sat down again, thoughtfully sucking at her caffeine fix. She felt as if she'd personally let Gibbs down by failing to point at a suspect, and even more that she had failed Hope in some way. She shook her head. What was this, anyway? Forensics meant dealing with stiffs by the bucket load.  
The moment she had that thought she felt guilty. False bravado like that was cheap and disrespectful. She tapped the straw against her lips.

Abby fretted at a loose thread on her sleeve.  
"So you're probably thinking this is pretty hinky. I know, I know, lotsa people would say this is. But if you want me to go just let me know, kay?"  
When she received no response she moved forward.  
"I wanted to say that I'm sorry. For whatever made you feel… for whatever it was that made this your only way out."  
Hope Reznor looked peaceful at least. Abby wheeled Ducky's chair over to the tray that she had pulled out from the refrigerator and adjusted it until she could sit comfortably. She hooked her arms over the back of the chair and stared at Hope.  
"You were pretty, you know? Probably had all the boys in school asking you out, huh?"  
Her eyes filled a little. What was Gibbs feeling, if this hit her so hard?  
"Gibbs, Gibbs is a good guy. He wants to save everybody and see everything through. I think you really threw him."  
Abby had a sudden impulse to touch the girl, to give her a last comforting gesture. She reached out, realized that she still had her gloves on, and removed them. Then she laid a hand gently on Hope's forehead. The skin beneath her warm palm was like cold wood, slightly gritty and unnaturally tight. She stroked the hair that had turned dull and lank and smiled.  
"Hey, I'll tell you what, if you ever need me, I'm always ready for guests." She said, bending close to the dead girl's ear.  
She felt something lift inside her as she replaced the sheet and pushed the tray back into it's cold space.

Two weeks passed, and a marine found himself at the centre of a drug-ring murder scandal and the case took up nearly every waking hour for every member of the team. Abby had volunteered to get a carry-out one evening, and Gibbs had let her go, sensing that she needed a break most of all. She and McGee had been pulling ridiculous amounts of overtime to try and find enough evidence to support the claims of innocence from the marine.  
On her way back to NCIS one of her pigtails started to come loose. She set the Chinese food down on a bench and began to tug her hair back into place. As she started to plait it back she realized that the hairband had snapped, and groaned. They were her favourite pair, tiny plastic bats holding hearts with their feet. She put the broken band in her pocket and started to put her hair into a ponytail.  
When she had finished she went to pick the bag of food up, and stopped. Over the street she saw a familiar girl pass under the streetlights. Before she could be sure a cab sped past, and when her eyes readjusted from the glare the girl had gone.  
You're seeing things, she thought sternly, too many late nights and not enough caffeine.

"What took you so long?" DiNozzo said as he hustled the bag from her and began tossing boxes on the desk. Abby pointed to her hair. "Band snapped, I had to fix it. You know a girl has to pride herself on her looks."  
DiNozzo snorted.  
"Oh, I think Tony knows all about that, he'd be lost without a nice blonde girl on his arm," McGee murmured as he examined his food. DiNozzo looked at him with a smirk.  
"That one you took to The Olive Grove, now she knew how to dress. What do they call that in Haute Couture, the mutton look?"  
"Hey!" DiNozzo tried to say with a mouth full of Lo Mein. He coughed and swallowed. Abby made a face as he sprayed bits of noodles onto the desk.  
"That was my aunt, Probie! And since when were you the expert on women and my personal stalker?"  
Gibbs looked up from the file he was studying.  
"The Olive Grove? Jeez, what did she do to upset you?"  
"Ah ha ha, very funny, but on my salary I can't exactly spring for filet mignon every evening. Anyway, Probie, answer the question, why are you following me around town?"  
McGee went pink. Abby giggled.  
"Could be something to do with a certain book signing?" she prompted. McGee groaned.  
"Oh, oh I see, that's how it is! Well you can forget about putting my dinner with my aunt in your next book, mister, or I'll be suing you for, for copyright infringement!"  
"You can't copyright going for dinner!" exclaimed McGee, trying not to laugh.  
"Try me," DiNozzo gave a huge grin. "I will toast your ass."  
Abby looked at both of them. "Uh, Tony, whatever you want to do to McGee is your own business, but we don't need to know the intimate details."  
Their banter continued long after the last egg roll had been eaten, and by the time they all left for home Abby had completely forgotten all about seeing Hope Reznor across the street.


	2. Chapter 2

Gibbs stared at his computer screen. He read the email again, just to be sure he hadn't missed anything.

"Son of a…" he murmured, before standing up and putting a firm hand on his chair to stop himself from punching something.

"Why Jethro, whatever is the matter?"

Ducky had appeared from nowhere. He could sense the tension in his old friend, and knew that something had shaken him.

"That girl, Hope? I just got a mail from her dad. Turns out he left a gun with his parents in case they ever needed to defend themselves in their home. Looks like she took it, went out there and…"

He couldn't continue. Something about the case still bugged him, and now, knowing that she had used the gun her own father intended for his familys protection, he felt a little queasy. Ducky seemed to understand without being told.

"It is a cruel irony indeed, Jethro, but we cannot burden ourselves with the sorrows of the dead. That poor child would have found a way even without the convenient implement."

Gibbs let his shoulder sag. He knew that Ducky was right, but he wished that he could get that case out of his head. They were no closer to finding out who had picked up the gun without calling in to report Hope's death. Probably some bum had stumbled upon the whole mess and took the gun to pawn.

"It's not right, Duck. Someone saw her there, and just left her. What kind of person do you have to be not to feel any kind of guilt at doing that?"

Ducky patted his shoulder, a little awkwardly but with well meant reassurance.

"Greater minds than ours have tried and failed to understand what drives man to act in the varied ways that he does. For every villain out there, there is the altruist, and that is the only comfort that we can take."

His friends words stayed with Gibbs as he went to find Abby. In the lab he found McGee doing something indecipherable with a computer.

"Where's Abs?"

McGee raised an eyebrow at him and did a brief impression of Abby clutching a Big Gulp sized cup. Gibbs chuckled despite his low mood. Both men turned in surprise as Abby rushed in, nearly dropping the cup holder she carried in her haste to put it down.

McGee steadied the cups before they fell. "What's up, Abby?"

She ignored him, opening and closing drawers until she found a box of incense and a crystal. McGee and Gibbs exchanged glances as she lit the incense and started to wave the crystal over the smoke.

"Mind telling us what this little ritual is all about?" said Gibbs, waving away a pungent trail as it drifted towards him.

Abby turned and waved her hands, clearly flustered.

"Okay, so I told her if she ever needed me that would be fine, but I didn't really think that she'd actually take any notice of me! It's just getting way too hinky now, I need to smudge this place."

McGee and Gibbs stared at her. "Who?" they said at the same time.

"Hope, I told her if she needed me then she could, you know, drop by, but now I keep seeing her and I'm going to go crazy if I don't help her pass over. I was getting coffee and there she was at the window, looking right at me."

Abby shook her head and turned back to the incense stick.

Gibbs began to speak. "Abs, I'm sure there are a lot of girls in Washington that look like Hope, we've all been overworked lately and…"

"Uh uh, nope, it's her. I never forget a face, Gibbs. Hope's trying to tell me something, and I promised to help her, but eesh," she shuddered, "I never thought it would actually be so, so creepy to see a ghost. But I made a promise and I have to stick to it. You guys can help, if you want."

Gibbs was bemused and concerned. He wondered if he hadn't been working Abby too hard lately. He couldn't think of the last time she had taken a day off. Maybe now was the time to use the boss card. He could afford to have his forensic specialist out of play for at least a couple of days, better that then have her a nervous wreck.

"Finish up in here, Abs, then take the rest of today and tomorrow off. You too, McGee", he said after a moments consideration. "You two can keep each other company while you have some downtime."

McGee brightened. "What about you, boss? And Tony?"

"Don't worry about that, DiNozzo will get the same treatment when you two get back. Just make sure you get some rest, get this place out of your systems for a couple days."

Leaving McGee to watch Abby complete her smudging, Gibbs went to find DiNozzo. He wanted to find that gun, and more importantly to find the person that took it from a crime scene without a second thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Abby regained some of her usual perkiness once they were out of the building.

"Wanna catch lunch?" McGee asked, looking at his watch. It was 2pm and they had been running on caffeine all day.

"Sure, we should try that new Italian place, I heard they do a great Seppie Ripiene."

"Is that a good thing?"

"We'll find out!"

The restaurant was cosy, with only a few other diners seated in booths. Abby slipped into a chair at a table by the window.

McGee pulled out the chair opposite. "Doesn't it make you feel like a goldfish to sit here?"

"Nah, I like to people-watch. I just pretend that they're the goldfish," Abby puffed out her cheeks and widened her eyes. McGee laughed.

Abby's eyes stayed wide but her jaw dropped. McGee followed her shocked gaze over his shoulder, and felt his stomach freeze. There on the other side of the glass was Hope Reznor, slowly walking past the restaurant with glazed eyes.

"Do you see her too?" Abby whispered. McGee nodded, then stood up quickly before he had a chance to change his mind. "Come on!" he exclaimed, bolting for the door.

He nearly bumped into the dead girl, who fixed him with an angry expression and said "Hey!" in an aggressive voice. He wasn't so sure that ghosts were supposed to take notice of their surroundings like that. Abby appeared at his side, and the girl looked at them both with hostility.

"Hope?" Abby quavered. The girl snorted and tried to push past them. McGee caught her arm. Something in his gut told him that this was more than a coincidence. This must be how Gibbs feels when his gut talks to him, he thought.

"What the hell? Let go of me!"

The girl struggled, and he caught her other wrist as Abby fished out her NCIS ID.

"Calm down, ma'am, we'd just like to ask you a couple questions," Abby said, holding her card close to the girls face. The girls eyes scanned it rapidly and she stopped struggling.

"What do you want? I don't got all day," she snapped.

"Do you know a Hope Reznor?" McGee asked, releasing her arms.

"Should I?" she replied, tilting her head to one side and sneering at him. Abby noticed a scratch on her arm, that and her attitude were pretty good proof that she was flesh and blood rather than a phantom.

"It's just you really look like her, and we're…" Abby hesitated. "We're trying to find people who know her." Finished McGee.

"Why, she gone missing? Or maybe I don't give a shit and you're wasting my time."

She made as if to get past again, but McGee moved firmly in front of her.

"Is that a no?"

The girl rolled her eyes and folded her arms. "Okay, whatever. If you must know, Mr and Mrs NCIS, she's my sister."

Abby glanced at McGee.

"Are you twins?" He asked, wanting to be absolutely sure.

The girl snorted again. "What do you think? If you know I look like her, it's pretty damn obvious. Now if we're finished here I would like to get home."

"Just a second, ma'am," McGee began.

"Faith. Faith, not ma'am. God, you people, is this what our taxes pay for? Private Dickless and his little arm candy who don't even know the names of the people they harass?"

Abby stifled a smile, despite the girls rudeness it was almost funny to hear her talk about taxes as if she was a grizzled work veteran.

"Faith, we need you to come with us." McGee said, sternly.

Abby could have predicted her response. "Whatever."

She grudgingly accompanied them back to the NCIS building, McGee watching her closely all the way.

"You do know that I'm a minor, right? Might want to make a note of that in your case file," she snapped as they made their way inside. Abby wondered if Hope had been this rude, and what Gibbs would think.

"So, Faith, you and your sister live with your grandparents?"

Gibbs was trying an informal approach. There had been no mention of Faith Reznor by her grandparents or father, which he found unusual. McGee had already warned him that she was likely to be difficult, and looking at her he could see what he meant. She was resting one leg on the table, arms crossed defiantly.

"No, and you should already know that."

"Lets assume we don't. So where do you live?"

She shrugged. "Around."

"Do you speak to your grandparents? Your dad?"

Silence. The trick was not to lose patience too soon. He wondered if Hope had been this sullen.

"You got a fixed address?"

Faith swung her leg down and let her chair hit the floor with a bang. She put her folded arms on the table and glared at him.

"Not one that I got to tell you."

This was going to be as difficult as he let it be.

"Faith, I need you to listen to me, and I'm sorry that I have to be the one to tell you this," he paused, genuinely sorry for her. "Your sister is dead."

Her reaction surprised him, and he had seen more people respond to that news than he cared to. She just shrugged.

"And?"

Now was not the time to be caught speechless. "And, as her identical twin sister, I thought that you would want to know."

She made a dismissive sound. "Yeah. Because everyone knows that twins are best friends forever and can't be apart for a moment. You people probably think that bullshit about telepathy is real. Well I've got news for you, I'm an individual, not her God damn shadow!"

Her last words were almost shouted. Gibbs's gut gave a familiar twinge. Something was off here.

"Nobody said that, Faith," he began, but she interrupted, clearly a sore spot had been touched.

"Yeah, nobody said that. Nobody ever said "Oh, you should be more like your sister, Faith" or "Hope's grades are above average, why don't you let her tutor you?". Nobody ever made you dress the same and style your hair the same and try to make you a clone of someone."

She was seething now. Gibbs let her continue.

"You never had to share a room with Miss Preppy and listen to Mom and Dad praise her and talk about the college fund they started specially for her. You never had to listen to the same old shit about getting better grades and turning into Miss Apple Pie just to come close to getting the attention she got. You know what? I hated her. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Exhausted she sank back in her seat and stared at the ceiling. Gibbs waited for a few minutes before he spoke.

"It sounds like it wasn't easy for you, Faith. Is that why you ran away?"

"I didn't run away."

"Sure you did. You had problems at home, sibling rivalry got out of hand…"

"It's not running if you're pushed."

"What pushed you, Faith?"

She rolled her eyes. "Y'know, this is getting pretty boring…"

Time to bring out the big guns.

"What happened to your arm?"

Faith looked down at the scratches and covered them hurriedly with her hand.

"Poison oak." She muttered.

"Uh huh. Hope had scratches just like that. You sure about the telepathy thing?"

What had meant to come out as a joke obviously enraged her again.

"How many times do I got to tell you? I can't feel a thing that bitch felt, I never have. If I could don't you think I would have…"

She stopped quickly. Gibbs sensed that she had almost overstepped herself, and seized his chance.

"Do you know what I think? I think that Faith cared about you, and that she told you what she planned to do. I think you went out there to stop her, that you still loved your sister enough to try to save her. But it was too late, so you took the gun, maybe meant to take it back to your grandparents, and left her. You got scared, after all she was your sister, and people do uncharacteristic things when they're grieving."

A brief narrowing of her eyes told him that his suspicions were right even before she told him. She leaned forward again, arms resting on the table palms down.

"I told you. I didn't care. I don't care. I haven't cared since I left that damn house. You think Miss Preppy knew where they kept dads gun? She would have crapped if she knew it was in the house."

Gibbs felt a deep knot of sadness in his stomach, and pushed it down until he had time to deal with it.

"How did you get the gun, Faith?"

Like so many suspects before her, Faith knew when to fold in the face of Gibbs's unwavering instinct.

"The bathroom window pops open if you hit it right. I used to go in and out that way when they gave me that stupid curfew. I just… I just wanted to scare her. I wanted her to understand what it was like for me, what it feels like to be powerless."

Every time he heard it, Gibbs felt more frustration towards those who claimed that their intention was to scare someone.

"So you wanted to teach her a lesson. How did you get her to go out to that spot?"

Faith studied her hands. "I told her I wanted to talk. Told her I was thinking about talking to dad again. She wanted me to talk to gramps and gramma, move back in with them, play happy families. I said sure. She was always dumb like that."

"What happened when she got there?"

"I just, you know, wanted to scare her."

Gibbs stifled a snarl. "Yeah, I got that. But it went from a scare to her being shot. Tell me what happened, Faith."

"She got there. We talked a little, she got mad at me when I told her she was a puke and that I didn't give a shit about any of the family."

"Where was the gun?"

Faith glanced at him. "In the back of my jeans. I wasn't, you know, going to use it or anything."

"So how exactly were you going to scare her? You didn't take the gun out there for no reason, Faith. You broke into your grandparents house to get it, seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to if you didn't want to use it somehow."

She sat back again, scraping her chair across the floor and kicking at the table leg.

"Alright, fine. I was gonna show her the gun, get her to shut the hell up for once and listen to me. Everybody always listened to her, it was my turn to do the talking. So she's mad that I don't want to kiss ass like she does and starts running her mouth about how I'm ungrateful, how I'm a loser because I don't have her stupid valedictorian fantasy. So I decided it was time to show her who deserved some God damn respect."

"How did it happen, Faith?"

"She shut up, for like a second. Then she starts screaming at me, going psycho. She'd never have the guts to be like me, I told her. She kept screaming at me, trying to grab the gun, telling me that dad would be mad like I should care. So I pulled the trigger."

Gibbs watched her carefully. There wasn't even the slightest hint of remorse that he could see.

"I think I meant for the sound to scare her. I wasn't even aiming or anything. But Hope always got in the way of everything that I did, and this time it just happened to be a bullet."

She smirked at her own sick joke. Gibbs felt a chill run down his spine. He had been around some of the most sadistic and depraved people that society could offer, but the 17 year old girl sitting across from him gloating about her sisters death made him feel worse than many of them had done.

"Did you try to help her?"

"What was the point?"

Gibbs was at a loss for words.

"She was dead before she hit the ground. I've seen enough cop shows, I made sure I left the way we came in. Suppose I should have skipped town, huh?"

"It might have bought you some time," Gibbs had to agree.

He had to ask, to be totally sure. "You do realize that what you did to your sister, to Hope, is at the very least going to be tried as manslaughter?"

Faith shrugged, still emotionless.

"The bitch shouldn't have fought."

The day ran into the evening. Fingerprint analysis on the gun verified Faith's version of events. Smudged marks all over the muzzle and barrel, a couple clear enough to be identified as Hope's. Faith's print on the trigger.

Gibbs sat in the bullpen with his chin resting on his hand as DiNozzo and McGee worked on the final reports. A light tap on his shoulder, and suddenly Abby was handing him a scalding fresh cup of coffee. He took it from her with a distant smile. Once he had put it on the desk she threw her arms around him and gave him a tight hug.

"Gonna be ok, best boss?" she asked as she squeezed him.

He patted her shoulder when she released him and managed a more genuine smile.

"Yeah, thanks Abs. I just can't get over what could make anyone hate their sister so much. What was inside Faith that made her do what she did?"

DiNozzo came over.

"Don't let it get to you, boss. Some things we're never going to understand. Right, Probie?"

McGee held up a hand as he finished typing. After a couple of moments he responded. "I don't think anyone could even hope to know what was going on in her mind. Sibling rivalry can get ugly, but I think this is a pretty rare case of it leading to death."

"I hope so," sighed Gibbs. "Who's turn is it to get the food?"

McGee rose to his feet, stretching. "I could use some fresh air, I'll go."

As he left Gibbs watched Abby and DiNozzo as they made the final report checks. The sadness that he had squashed since the interview was still there, but he would deal with it later, when there was no risk of anyone else getting caught up in it. For now, he would enjoy the company of his team, the closest thing to family that he could wish for.


End file.
